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Kant let out a long breath and prayed to the Prophets for guidance. “I was really hoping those lunatics had gone away.”

“I take it the Free Vulcan Gazette is not a reputable journal?”

“Not remotely. For starters, not a single Vulcan is on its staff, and I would be stunned if there were any in its subscriber list.”

“That’s odd. I took a brief look at their latest issue, and they seem to advocate a very pro-Vulcan stance.”

Kant scowled. “That’s one way of looking at it. It started publication about three hundred years ago, right after the first contact between Vulcans and humans on Earth. A group of humans felt that Vulcans should rule the galaxy. They started the FVG, and it’s kept going strong despite being officially repudiated by the Vulcan government, and being the laughingstock of pretty much everyone who doesn’t subscribe to it, which is about ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent of sentient life.”

Zhres tilted his head in a way that Kant found especially annoying. “What’s the basis of their argument?”

“What, why Vulcans should rule the galaxy?” Kant shrugged. “I guess because they’re the only ones smart enough.”

“It’s a case that can be made.”

Glowering at his assistant, Kant said, “I’m going to assume that was a joke.”

“I thought assuming was bad.”

“See, that’s your second mistake. Your first was assuming. Your second was to believe that I’m someone who expects, desires, or needs you to think. Thinking just gets in the way of the work and irritates me. Kindly stop it.”

Kant and Zhres reached the large doors that led to a small, empty room that was about to be full of people who weren’t there.

Holographic technology had improved to the point that it could be married to communications technology. As a result, the days when Kant would be in the same room as the various members of the press assigned to cover the doings of the president and the council were long past. Instead, he scheduled his briefings, the press folk in question would activate their own holocoms, and their images would appear in this room, located in the same building as the council chambers in Paris.

The doors parted at their approach, revealing a room with the usual grid pattern on the walls indicating holographic emitters. As soon as they entered, the room activated, the computer altering the surroundings to one of a pleasant, wood-paneled room, with a podium by the north wall and plenty of floorspace in front of it. Kant preferred it this way. He never understood why the press all got to sit while he had to stand, so right after he took the job as press liaison, he had all the chairs removed. With the advent of the holocom, that all changed, as the reporters could present themselves however they wished—including at their seats—a change that Kant also found annoying.

Standing behind the podium and in front of the Federation flag that hung on the north wall, Kant asked, “They ready?”

The technician that was hidden in some other room where Kant couldn’t get at him said, “Yes, but Councillor Ra’ch’s office specifically told me not to activate the holocom until noon.”

Kant checked his chrono, which read 11.58. Damn literal-minded techies.

He turned to Zhres. “Check with Starfleet again, see if Ross has released any kind of statement.”

Nodding, Zhres put a blue hand to his right ear, disturbing his well-groomed, feathery white hair. Speaking in a low voice, he asked to be put through to Starfleet Command’s press office.

An eternity later—though Kant’s chrono insisted that it was only thirty seconds—the answer came through the Andorian’s earpiece. “Nothing yet.”

“Did they at least give some kind of estimate as to when we’d get one?”

Zhres shook his head. “All they would say is that the admiral will make a statement when it’s appropriate.”

Kant rolled his eyes. “Now is when it’s appropriate. Right after the council has declared him a candidate. Pagro and Bacco understood that, why the hell doesn’t he?”

“Is that a rhetorical question? Because I’m afraid my telepathic abilities